


Only Human

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Gen, Greater than canon violence, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Major Character Injury, Shiro (Voltron) Whump, Tumblr Prompt, Whump, Whump Bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-03-29 16:32:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13930938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: A series of fills from Whump Bingo.   Mostly focused on Shiro (or Kuron) whump.





	1. Sheith - Touching clothes, hand comes away bloody

“I’m fine,” Shiro insisted, even as he winced and swallowed hard.

Keith snorted and eyed Shiro dubiously.  “Yeah, perfectly fine.  That’s why you’re leaning so heavily on me right now.”

Lips pressed thin, Shiro started to pull his arm back and step away, but Keith adjusted his grip to hold him in place.  After only a moment of struggle, Shiro sighed and slumped again, giving into the necessity.  He was horribly pale, and the corners of his eyes were tight with the pain he wouldn’t admit to.

All of it  _burned_  Keith to see.  They’d had an assassin.  In their own castle.  The place that was supposed to be their home and be safe.  

It only now occurred to Keith that they’d never gotten Ulaz to explain how he slipped in past the castle’s defenses.  He’d died too soon after, and in the chaos after with Zarkon following them, they hadn’t asked the Blade either.  With the benefit of his own training, Keith could easily list half a dozen ways to slip into a ship like this.  He’d just never thought to apply his knowledge to the castle.  It was home.  It was safe.  

Until now.

At least the sensors on the ship were good enough to pick up an intruder immediately.  There were multiple life-sign monitors, and when it picked up more than the bare few people who lived on the ship, it immediately knew something was wrong.  Shiro had been going to his room to suit up when the assassin had caught up to him.

If the assassin wasn’t already dead, Keith would  _love_  to introduce them to his sword.  Slowly.

“Where did he get you?” Keith asked, taking slow, smooth steps as he tried to guide Shiro down the hall.  It felt like Shiro was leaning harder on him with each step, but that was just as likely to be the effect of carrying so much weight.

“A nick on the side,” Shiro replied.  His voice was rougher, now, that lower tone of voice he got when he was admitting to pain.  “It really wasn’t bad.  I’m pretty good at dodging, you know.”

Keith frowned, but nodded.  “Not perfect,” he reminded.

“Well, I did get hit, so yes, that’s evident.  Thank you for that clarification.”

Rolling his eyes, Keith resisted the urge to elbow Shiro.  “I really hate your sense of humor, you know that?  It makes it hard to tell when you’re seriously hurt.”

Shiro’s brows waggled.  There was a sheen of sweat in his forehead, and his eyes were glazed.  “That’s the idea.”

Keith frowned back.  “Are you feverish?”

“Are you asking if m’hot?”

Heart thudding painfully, Keith stared at Shiro.  Even when dying, he’d never heard Shiro slur like that before.  “Where were you hit?”

“Side.  I said.”

Had to be the other one, with the way Shiro was curved.  Keith took his hand off Shiro’s shoulder and rolled it down his side instead.

At one point, his hand hit something wet and sticky, otherwise covered by the dark fabric.

Keith pulled his hand back.  His palm and fingers were smeared red.

“Shiro? Are you- why didn’t you say something?”

Shiro frowned at the hand too, brow furrowed in deep confusion.  “Not- jus’ a nick.   Lil cut.  Not…”

Then his eyes rolled back, and he became dead weight.

It was all Keith could do to keep Shiro from hitting the ground hard.  Keith put his hands to the wet spot and pressed down, trying to stem the still flowing blood.  “Coran!”  He yelled, loud as he could.  “Anyone!”  

In the echo, he could hear the fear and desperation in his own voice.

Keith stared down at Shiro’s slack face, heart in his throat, as a familiar dread became a stone in his stomach.

Why did he only ever have the courage to confess when he thought Shiro was going to die?


	2. Friendsheith, apologizing before collapsing

Keith ground his teeth as the Red Lion moved sluggishly.  The difference was a split second, barely noticeable, but it was there.  Forming the sword was no trouble, but getting it into place too longer, like there was grit in the shoulder joint.

“Did we fly into space dust or something?” Lance ground out.  “What’s going on?”

Pidge made a frustrated noise of her own.  She brought the shield up, and just barely saved them from a direct hit by the robeast.  “No, nothing we haven’t flown through before.”

“Maybe that thing is doing this?”  On screen, Hunk’s eyes narrowed as he examined the creature.  It moved horrifically fast, waving like a ribbon or an eel, and struck with lightning-quick flicks of it’s tail, or balls of energy that screamed with power. 

“Maybe?”  Pidge replied, though she didn’t look convinced.  “I don’t see anything on the scans.  And it’s pretty busy trying to whip us.”

Shiro took a deep breath, and the conversation stopped as they waited in anticipation of an order.  It took a few seconds, to the point Keith wondered if Shiro had actually just suppressed a yawn or something.  

“Let’s just finish this quickly,” he finally said.  “We’ll figure it out when there’s not a robeast trying to break Voltron in half.  Hunk, your weapon doesn’t require precision.”

On screen, Hunk flashed a bright grin.  “No, it doesn’t,” he chirped.  In seconds, the canon formed with a flash of light.

There was a jolt through Voltron, a shiver like they’d been pulled into a tractor beam, but it stopped after only a moment.

Yeah, whatever was going on was bad, but the robeast was still the more immediate threat.

“I’m locked on,” Hunk called.  “Ready?”

Pidge brought up the shield again, holding it up as the robeast flicked around them.  “I’m ready.”

There was a long silence from Shiro, as they waited for the go.

Nothing.

The robeast turned, facing them, then darted forward suddenly.  Energy glowed behind them, and Keith vaguely thought about an old movie he’d seen on TV as a child.  Something about bikes with glowing walls behind them.

“Now!”  Keith called, gritting his teeth.  “Go now!”

There was a horrible moment of pause, as the robeast came so close Keith could see the individual fangs in its mouth-

Then Hunk fired.

The canon erupted, firing shot after shot into the beast, flinging it back through space.  But only the first volley glowed with familiar power.  After that, the shots were less, and duller, until the canon disappeared entirely.

Twisting around, the robeast curled and flicked in space, wounded but not down.

“What’s going on?” Lance called.  “Hunk, why’d you stop?”

“It wasn’t me!”

A ragged breath came through the comms.  “I’m sorry,” Shiro breathed. His calm tone from before was completely gone, replaced with exhaustion and the hint of a wheeze.

Keith’s heart stopped.  “Shiro?”

Voltron broke.

They were flung apart, and Keith righted the lion immediately, turning to the Black Lion.  It floated limply, eyes on but with no sign of control.

“Shiro?” Pidge called.  The Green Lion flew closer, until the metal paws nearly brushed Black’s flank.  “What happened?  Are you okay?”

No answer.  The lion’s eyes flickered.

Allura’s face popped on screen, her eyes narrowed and intense.  “Something’s wrong.  His life signs have gone wild, and he’s not responding.  You need to get him back to the castle.”

“Little problem with that!”  Hunk suddenly shot forward, only barely missing Red.  The robeast, which had taken advantage of their lack of concentration to charge, smacked right into Yellow.  They both went flying in opposite directions.

Keith stared at the Black Lion for one more second, then turned.  Red growled around him, the lights surging in response to his sudden, protective anger.  “We’ll get Shiro to safety soon.  First, we need to take care of this one.”

No one objected, despite the fact that the lions had done almost nothing against this beast before they formed Voltron.

Now, they didn’t have a choice.  It was win or let Shiro suffer, and maybe die.

Not going to happen.  Not  _ever._

With a cry, Keith  _charged._


	3. Ryou and Hunk, helpless look before they collapse

Hunk hovered over Ryou’s shoulder, watching him work.  His movements were slower and clumsier than normal, even doing something as simple as screwing in bolts on his latest project.  He listed just slightly to the right, probably dragged down by the weight of his prosthesis.  Even if the Altean version was much lighter and better balanced than the Galra-made arm had been, it was still heavier than flesh.

“You really shouldn’t be up,” Hunk reminded him.  He sat down on the edge of the desk, arms crossed.

Ryou’s eyes flicked up to Hunk, then purposefully back away.  “It’s just an ear infection,” he pointed out, a dark sulk to his voice.  “I can sit in a chair.  I’d be sitting in bed anyway, but at least this way I’m not bored.”

Huffing, Hunk inclined his head.  It was the answer he expected, and he couldn’t say he’d be better in Ryou’s position.  There really wasn’t much worse than being stuck in bed, especially when you weren’t the right kind of sick to be tired and sleep to kill the time.

Even so, Hunk kept a close eye on Ryou.  ‘Ear infection’ was a gross understatement of whatever Ryou had caught when he fell into that gross bog.  He was far too likely to make a mistake at the moment, and Hunk didn’t want to see Ryou break his project or injure himself just because sitting in bed was dull.

“Am I entertaining?” Ryou asked, bitingly sarcastic.  His shoulders hunched up farther, and he shot Hunk a glare through his shorter bangs.  Or, at least, it was supposed to be a glare.  Between his heavy lean and ruffled appearance, it was really more like a pout.

Hunk smiled back, deliberately easy.  “Yeah, actually.”

That earned him a flash of bared teeth as Ryou went back to work.  He reached for something, then paused.

“Dammit,” he muttered.

Hunk’s shot him a too-cheery smile.  “Forgot something?”

Ryou’s glare darkened.  “Like you’ve never forgotten an impact wrench.”  He shoved himself up, then paused, knuckles white on the table.

The false smile dropped.  “You ok-”

With a sudden lurch, Ryou turned and stalked away.  But he only got a few feet before he stumbled.

Hunk stood, and he was already moving when Ryou turned around, eyes wide, mouth open around a word.  No sound came out, but his vulnerable, fearful expression said it all.

Then Ryou’s eyes rolled up in his head, and he dropped.

Hunk caught him before Ryou before he hit the ground, cradling him to his chest.  “I told you,” he said, but it was utterly without heat.  Instead he shifted the weight, so Ryou’s head was on his shoulder instead.  “No one on this ship listens to sense.”

There was no reply.  Ryou instinctively curled up against him as a heavy shiver ran through him.

Hunk’s heart clenched with sympathy.  Despite his attempts to be subtle, it was a well known secret that Ryou hated the cold.  After what had happened when he’d first been woken and sent out, Hunk couldn’t blame him.

With a last glance back to make sure Ryou’s project was safe where it was, Hunk turned off the lights and stepped out of the lab.  He idly rubbed over Ryou’s arm to help warm him.  “Let’s get you a blanket.”

This time, there was a slurred groan, though Ryou’s eyes didn’t open.  He tensed, then relaxed again with a sigh.

Maybe after this, Ryou would listen to reason when Hunk presented it.

Probably not, but it was nice to dream.


	4. Ryou/Lance, looking younger while unconscious

Looking down at the pale face in his lap, Lance heaved a long sigh.  The hum of the obelisks around them nearly drowned out the noise, but it didn’t matter.  Lance doubted that Ryou was going to be moving for at least a few hours.

At least they were relatively safe.  Their team and lions couldn’t track them down and come get them due to the high volume of quintessence running through these ruins, neither could the Galra.

That had been Lance’s argument, at least, while Ryou paced the perimeter.  He’d barely gotten a grunt in return.  It was probably the most Shiro-like that Lance had seen Ryou in months.  He was protective of the team, yes, but he was more defensively focused than his brother.  This ‘stalk the area for threats, be ready for all things, never admit weakness’ was Shiro’s bad habit.

Seems like when he was especially worried, Ryou slipped up.

Lance’s ankle twinged from the reminder.  He tried to roll it, but the pain shot through him like someone was slicing through his muscles, so he stopped.

“But you’re injured too,” Lance murmured, as if Ryou could hear him in his deep sleep.  The ugly gash on his scalp had finally stopped bleeding, but it left the white hair stained a horrific pink.  

There was no response, not even a twitch.  Lance wondered if he should wake Ryou.  Weren’t you supposed to do that with a concussion?  Or were you  _not_  actually supposed to do that?  Even if it was bad, was it worse than robbing Ryou of precious sleep, when he’d already worked himself into exhaustion?

In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to.  Instead, Lance licked a finger, then ran them over Ryou’s brows, wiping away a trail of blood.  That would hurt in the morning if it was allowed to dry.

Like this, face totally slack in his sleep, Ryou would have looked peaceful if it wasn’t for the wound.

Curious, Lance rested two fingers over the bridge of Ryou’s nose.  It covered the scar, as if he’d never gotten it in the first place.

He’d known, intellectually, that Shiro and Ryou were only a few years older.  Barely graduated from the Garrison, even.

It was another to see the physical evidence, made more upsetting by the vivid wound.

Lance pulled his hand back, curling his fingers up.  Instead, he traced his thumb along the sharp line of Ryou’s jaw.

“I worry for you too, you know,” he said.  “This isn’t one way.  We aren’t one way.”

Lance thought of the desperate fear in Ryou’s eyes when he’d twisted his ankle.  He thought of the constant checks, the way Ryou’s hands had shook when he made a make-shift splint.  He thought of how Ryou had cupped his jaw like Lance was something precious that had nearly been taken away.

Now wasn’t the right time.  But when they got back to the castle, Lance was going to say something.

“It’s not one way,” he said again, thumb running over Ryou’s bottom lip.  His mouth parted from the slight pressure, but there was otherwise no reaction.

Probably passed out, then, not just asleep.

Well, fine.  Ryou had watched out while Lance rested before.  This time it was Lance’s turn.

He’d keep them both safe. 


	5. Sheith, afraid to sleep in front of others

Rolling over, Keith burrowed deeper into the covers.  He knew immediately that he was on the castle.  Galra living spaces tended to be colder, since they had thicker skin and usually some form of covering, like fur.  The castle, however, was kept at a perfectly comfortable temperature.  Keith hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that until he was back.

Something was off, though.  Something nagged at the back of his mind, a persistent itch that dragged him out of his sleep.  His fingers curled into the sheets, trying to resist the pull.  

Except that the sheets were cold. And empty.

Shiro wasn’t there anymore.

Immediately, Keith’s eyes snapped open, and his heart started to pound.  Was he gone again?  Had he vanished from the bed, while Keith slept on, oblivious?  Had his confession been the result of the moment, not of genuine emotions, and he’d slipped away?  

But almost immediately, Keith saw the faint glow of a screen on the other side of his room.  He relaxed, though his heart still rabbited in his throat.  He spent several long seconds just looking at Shiro, tracing the highlights of his face, and where it melted back into shadow.  He’d put his flight suit back on, though the pieces of armor were still neatly piled on his desk.

He looked tired.

Slowly, Keith sat up, the blanket falling off his shoulders to pool at the small of his back.  “Shiro?  Why are you up?”

Shiro startled badly, nearly falling out of Keith’s desk chair.  He caught himself and stared, wild-eyed, at Keith.  “I- Sorry.  Did I wake you?”

“No, I don’t think so.”  He rubbed at one eye, growing suspicious as he woke fully.  “You didn’t answer my question.”

There was a pause, then Shiro sighed.  “It wasn’t a good idea.  So I figured I’d get some work done.  I rested when I was in the Astral Plane.”

Keith turned to fully face him, scowling.  He noticed Shiro’s eyes dart down to where he was exposed, but then dart back up, cheeks flushed.

Normally, Keith would have been pleased at the overt sign of interest.  But right now he had bigger problems.

“You need rest,” Keith said.  “I don’t know if you forgot how physical bodies work, but sleep is required.”

“I can’t.  Nightmares, remember?”  He gave a bland smile.  “I don’t know how I’ll react to having someone in bed with me during one.  And tonight’s going to be… bad.”  He glanced to the left, as though he could see through the door and down the hall.

Down to where the clone slept in a guest room, viciously defended by Lance.  Or, not-slept, maybe, considering how Shiro was.

As far as they knew, the connection to Haggar was well and truly broken.  Keith doubted that Shiro’s worry was finding his clone over him in the middle of the night.  Probably, he was worried about what Haggar had baked into his own head.

“It’s worth the risk,” Keith said.

“Not for me.”

Sighing, Keith reached for his boxers and pulled them on.  “Alright.”  He stepped over and knocked Shiro’s hip, making room on the chair, then settled down.  “What are you working on?”

Shiro stared at him.  “What are you doing?”

“If you’re not going to sleep, neither am I.  These are rebel reports?”  Keith stared back, jaw set.

“You-”  Shiro groaned and dismissed the screen with a flick of his fingers.  “You don’t have to stay up.  Go back to sleep.  You need it, after fighting Haggar.”

“So do you.”  Keith’s eyes softened, and he took Shiro’s hand in his.  “Please.  Rest.  You can go back to your room, or you can stay here.  But you need to sleep.  Leave catching up till the morning.  Even if you stay up, at least you can lay down and relax.”

For a moment, Shiro hesitated.  Then he finally nodded.  “Alright.  I’ll lay with you.”

Ushering him back to bed, Keith pulled him close, his fingers stroking through his bangs.  The longer strands made his heart catch, pleased at the reminder that they had  _his_  Shiro back.

Despite his earlier protests, Shiro’s breathing evened out quickly.  In short order, he was snorting.

Didn’t need sleep, Keith’s ass.

Smiling, Keith settled down as well, curling around Shiro’s heavy warmth.

They were home and safe, for the first time in months.

That was what mattered.


	6. Shallura, leaning against walls to hide needing support

The problem was, Allura though, that Shiro behaved differently when Keith was around, and when he was not.  The opposite was also true, in very similar ways.  When one was gone, the other tended to hover on the edges of the group.

So when Keith was gone for a Marmora mission, Shiro spent most of his time leaning against walls and crossing his arm.  ‘Brooding’, as Lance liked to call it, though never directly to Shiro’s face.  He stayed quieter, he watched more - it wasn’t a cruel change, but definitely a turn for the less social.

Allura suspected that Keith and Shiro had become codependent, at least to a degree.  They used each other as a crutch for breaking into the group.  So when the other was gone, they had trouble interacting with the team when it wasn’t work.

Honestly, Allura could sympathize with that.  It was difficult to break into the Green-Blue-Yellow trio, even when she was a Blue paladin herself.  They had a tendency to jump into their own play and pursuits, and it was difficult not to feel like an intrusion.  Stepping forward and asking to join was uncomfortable, to say the least.  Allura had never been in a situation where she had to  _ask_  to be part of something on Altea.  Usually, people had been eager to include a princess, for better or for worse.  It wasn’t a skill she had realized had atrophied until she woke up.

So, while Allura wished Shiro would step forward and join in his teammates for more fun, she wasn’t surprised to see him leaning on the wall instead.  He had one leg bent to rest his boot against the metal, and his arms were crossed as he watched Pidge and Hunk enthusiastically tell Lance about a design they wanted him to test.

What was a surprise was when he  _slipped._

It was a subtle thing.  He leaned to the side several inches, then caught himself by pressing his left hand to the wall.  Then he settled back down, unruffled.

For anyone else, Allura wouldn’t have questioned the move.  But it was Shiro, and she’d never seen him so clumsy.

Maybe Allura had been looking at this the wrong way.  Maybe instead of holding up the other three as beacons of social interaction that had to be bartered with, the answer could be talking to each other.

That was nerve-wracking for other reasons.  But maybe Allura’s silly crush would finally go away when she was talking to him more, instead of watching his profile during speeches and trying not to bite through her lip.

So Allura stepped over and leaned on the wall next to Shiro.  After a moment, she copied his posture.  She had read once that mirroring movements gave the impression that both parties belonged to the same group.  Hopefully that would help.

Shiro’s brows rose, and his eyes flickered over Allura, looking amused.

Perhaps she was supposed to be more subtle about it than that.  Allura’s cheeks warmed, and she forced herself not to think about the fact that Shiro had looked her over so thoroughly.

“Did you need something, Princess?”  He asked, tone still irritatingly formal and respectful even after all this time.  Allura would be insulted, except that he spoke to nearly everyone that way.

Oh.  Allura probably should have come up with a better reason than ‘you were clumsy and it was weird.’  She swallowed hard, then nodded to the other three paladins.  “Does this worry you?”

Shiro blinked, then chuckled. “This isn’t worse than most things they’ve done,” he admitted.  “When one of them gets injured I’ll step in.  But until then, their impulse engineering has been too useful to curb.”

“Ah.”  Allura paused, listening in.  “And what is a ‘Flubber?’“

“Honestly?  I don’t know.  It’s probably a reference, from how they’re talking about it.”  Shiro shrugged one shoulder.  He listed to the side again, but caught himself much faster this time.  “I can ask Matt if I get too suspicious, so long as I don’t tell him where I heard it.”

That made sense, but Allura was barely paying attention.  Two slips in as many minutes wasn’t just curious anymore.  It was worrying.  “Are you injured?”

The sudden topic change threw Shiro off balance.  He stared at her, head tilted.  “No?”  He reached up and ran his fingers through his hair, like he was looking for a wound.  “Why?”

“You seem off,” Allura replied, because she might as well be honest.  “So I’m worried.”

Shiro’s eyes went wide, then he stiffened.  “I’m fine,” he said, much more firmly.  Back to overly formal.  “There’s no need for you to worry over me.”

“Why not?”  Allura demanded.  The question startled him again, but she didn’t give him a chance to speak.  “Why should I not care for my teammates?  Or for my friends?  If I were the one acting strange, would you not ask after me?”

“I-”  Shiro blinked rapidly.  “Of course- I mean, no, but-”  He shook his head hard, trying to steady himself.

Then slid so far down the wall he almost fell down.

Allura dove forward, grabbing him around the waist and heaving him back up.  At the same moment, she gave into impulse and pressed her palm against Shiro’s forehead.

Fever.

“Shiro!”  She snapped, pulling herself up.  The call caught the attention of the trio, who paused their conversation to listen in.  “Why did you not say something?”

Shiro’s cheeks flushed, utterly caught.  “It’s barely a cold,” he said.  “Nothing that will affect my performance or Voltron, I assure you.”

Staring him down, Allura narrowed her eyes.  “And again you think I cannot be concerned about you as a person or a friend.  Is that what you think of me?”

“No!”  Shiro held up both his hands, shrinking back.  “That’s not- not at all!  I just thought no one would.. notice.”  He swallowed hard, apparently aware of what a terrible excuse that was.

Considering him, Allura let out a low sigh.  “You’re having trouble standing while leaning against a wall,” she said.  “You need rest.  There’s no reason to push yourself unless we need you for Voltron.”

“There’s too much to do,” Shiro replied.  His voice lowered, and he glanced back at the other three, still watching the exchange with open curiosity.

Well, if he wanted to protect his dignity, he should have stepped out and gone to bed like a reasonable being.

“We can take care of it for an afternoon.”  She held out her hand in offering.  “Please.  We need you healthy, and I don’t enjoying watching you suffer, even if it’s minor.  Let me help you.”

Shiro hesitated, looking at her hand then up at him.  But finally he nodded and reached out, taking the offered help.  He wavered on his feet, but a hand on the center of his back helped steady him.

Glancing over her shoulder, Allura raised her brows.  “As you were.”

Pidge, Hunk and Lance all gave sheepish smiles.  The latter two dove back into their conversation, but Pidge sent Allura a thankful look.

She returned it with a smile, then helped usher Shiro out of the room.

“I admit, I didn’t expect that to work so soon,” Allura said, as they started down the hall.

Shiro glanced at her, more than a little sheepish.  It seemed being called out had broken through a bit of the formality.  “Well, I understand wanting to help someone else.  Even if I don’t particularly like it aimed at myself.  And- to be frank, I suspected if I said no, you’d just carry me back.”

“I might have.”  Allura smiled back.  “Would that be so bad?”

For some reason, Shiro went red and looked away.

Probably the fever.

Allura got him back to his room, then pulled him into a sudden hug.  Shiro stiffened, but relaxed into the embrace.

“You are part of this team as well, and you are just as worthy of care,” Allura said.  “Please try to remember that.”

“You too,” Shiro replied, squeezing back.  When he pulled back, his eyes were far too piercing.

This time, it was Allura who looked away.  “I’ll check up on you later.”

Shiro stepped into his room, hand still on the doorframe.  “You don’t have to-”  He cut off at Allura’s look.  “Alright.  And- thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

As the door closed, Allura smiled at the metal.

Yes, stepping forward and making the first social move had been the correct call.

Allura would have to try it again soon.


End file.
